


Five Times Ray Kowalski Fucked Joe Dick, and One He Didn't

by omphale23



Category: Hard Core Logo, due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-14
Updated: 2010-03-14
Packaged: 2017-10-07 23:53:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/70556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omphale23/pseuds/omphale23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray's out of matches and Joe's out of cigarettes.  It's enough.  It's a place to start.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Ray Kowalski Fucked Joe Dick, and One He Didn't

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks to [](http://slidellra.livejournal.com/profile)[**slidellra**](http://slidellra.livejournal.com/), who provided a kick-ass beta read with superhuman speed. (Ugh. I'm rhyming. Sorry.) I've messed with the HCL timeline enough to keep Joe around after Ray goes undercover.

_In a Room_

Ray's on his own (we need a break, you need a break, just get out) and he's too wasted to drive and Stella (his girl next door to someone else) doesn't love him enough (he loves her too much, he thinks he might break her) and suddenly there's this guy. This guy in a van (a van? fuck, this is stupid) with his buddy (looks familiar, like old mirror glass) and something stronger than beer to (loosen him up, get lost in, let go) forget.

Ray wakes up in his dorm room (remembers the van) alone (again) with a ticket stub (January 2, 1981, Fuck you, Joe) and a torn foil wrapper and the mother of all headaches. This was a bad idea. He feels better.

He tries not to think about dark hair in his lap or guitar chords. He's got a bandage on his arm and he's afraid to look.

_In a Bar_

Stella likes his uniform. Stella hates his tattoo. Stella likes his smile. Stella hates his cigarettes. Stella likes his paycheck. Stella hates to taste blowback. Stella likes the way he kisses. Stella hates the way he clings.

Stella isn't sure what love is, but she said yes anyway.

This thing, this thing in the back of a bar with this guy who says they've met before, is not about Stella.

Everything else is.

_In a Van_

Ray's out of matches and Joe's out of cigarettes. It's enough. It's a place to start.

There's this groupie named Mary, and they both pretend she's the reason they're here. Only problem is, Billy's the one passed out, draped over her back and snoring.

Ray and Joe didn't even notice. When Ray whispers (Stella, only it sounds more like someone else) it isn't to Joe. When Joe closes his eyes he feels callused fingers tracing his name.

_In an Alley_

Joe's more than a little wasted. Ray's minding his own fucking business and his name isn't Billy but it doesn't seem to matter. He can't get a word in, they both know who he isn't, neither of them cares.

Billy's taken off, Stella's taking a break, Ray's taking a risk. Joe takes what he can get.

Ray's up against a wall, pants around his knees. His jacket is in the mud, his fingers are in Joe's hair. Joe's jaw aches where Ray took a swing, before they both changed their minds. His lip is bruised, and when he said he didn't swallow, Ray fucking laughed.

It sounded like home.

Ray says it's a stupid idea, getting blown by a guy who wants to pretend they're both someone else. He does it anyway.

_In a Car_

Ray's got the GTO, he's got the shades, he's got the leather jacket. He's got everything he wants, and nothing he needs.

He's got Joe (who's starting to look awfully familiar) next to him. Later, after they catch up (Stella's gone for good, Billy's gone for good, they're both older but no wiser), he'll have Joe above him, gritting his teeth and sounding like he's (crying) dying.

Ray needs this shit like he needs a hole in the head. He wants to go home.

_But not in a Parking Lot_

Ray isn't in a band (it's been so long that he's lost his guitar) but that doesn't mean he can't mess around with a singer who's (leaving tomorrow) probably high.

He's rude, loud, nothing like (Stella, Sam, Ben) anyone else Ray has ever wanted. His smile doesn't belong on that mouth (left from a childhood long gone). He looks fifteen when he drops his chin and glances up at the crowd.

Looks fifty when he catches sight of his band. Fifty, and pissed as hell at (Billy, the world, life) something. Not Ray's problem. All he wants is a break from jerking off.

So he's got everything planned out, right down to the blowjob he's going to give, knees in the gravel behind the GTO, with the singer (Joe, he remembers the name) grabbing at the bumper and moaning (someone else's name).

Ray's wearing a tight gray t-shirt and a pair of jeans (five washes away from rags, his CFM pants) and from the looks he gets the extra effort is appreciated. No one else is getting those hot glances, the winks, the hip thrusts that aren't for the crowd.

He's scanning the room (checking for Vice) when Fraser appears (he must have missed him before, he doesn't know how). Fraser, looking like a choir director (guardian angel, boy next door) out slumming. He's holding a glass of club soda with a fucking _straw_ in it so Ray can't even pretend that his partner's drunk (and therefore Off Limits), and Ray feels his plan going down the drain. Along with his New Year's resolution, which was to Not Sleep With Fraser. (Fraser plays guitar.)

It's January third.


End file.
